“So, are nuns and I don’t want her running off to join them either. She’s at impressionable age right now, and the idea of casting spells is a romantic notion to her...and that is dangerous.”
“Ye don’t even know what it’s about.”
I turned away and stared blankly at the Wiccan book on the table. “You’re right. I’ll read up on it today, but I do have my reasons and I expect you to honor my wishes. She may be your great-granddaughter, but she’s still my daughter.”
Móraí spat. “Ye haven’t taught her to protect herself.”
What an odd thing to say.
“Protect herself? What is that supposed to mean? That makes no sense. She’s perfectly safe.”
Móraí stepped forward and rested her hand on my shoulder. “Is she now?”
My stomach burned with anger. What had Cullen told her? Did Móraí know about Madam Brun’s warning? If she did, why would she think Alana was the one in danger? If anything, we were the ones in danger.
I jerked away as if Móraí’s touch had suddenly burned me. “Tell me right now what this is about. Are you the one who told Alana she came from a long line of witches?”
Móraí said nothing, her jaw clenching and unclenching as if she might chew through my resistance.
“Damnit! What is it you think you know?” Móraí’s gentleness vanished, replaced by disbelief and anger. “I know a thirst for knowledge grows inside that girl. A need to strengthen and test her power and if ye don’t allow me to teach her, then she’ll learn from others or on her own and mark my words, ye’ll regret it.”
“No!” I shouted. The sound of our raised voices drew Alana from the back of the store.
“What’s going on, Ma?” Alana said, coming into view. “Móraí! Did you see the new pendants?”
Móraí backed away. “I did, Alana, dear. They’re brilliant. I’ll have to buy a few the next time I’m in. pick them out for me. I’m just off to run the messages. I’ll be back.” Her smoldering gaze met mine. “Please, Sophia. Don’t make me go behind yer back.”
Not daring to linger another moment, she scampered out the door.
“What was that about?” Alana asked.
“Your great-grandmother thinks she’s a witch and I’m inclined to believe her.” I felt like I’d been run over by a freight train as opposed to a frail old woman. I took a deep breath to steady myself. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m tired and grumpy—and I can’t wait to get home.”
Leslie always came over for tacos on Tuesdays and then we settled in to our favorite show with a glass of wine. Tonight was special because it was her birthday.
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m just overwhelmed and I’m still not sure what I’m making all of us for Leslie’s birthday dinner.”
“No problem. Ye can figure it out now,” Alana said. She came over and draped my jacket over my shoulders. I turned and grabbed onto her lean, willowy frame, enfolding her in a hug.
“Are ye sure ye’re okay, Mum?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I just don’t know if I should leave you.”
“It’s no big deal,” Alana said, pulling away. “I’ve handled the floor alone before. I can handle the mad Tuesday rush.”
She was joking. There wasn’t a soul in the store but us.
I glanced at the grandfather clock; the day was getting away from me and the cupboards at home were running low.
“I guess that could work.” The market was just down the street. “Promise me you’ll call, though, if you get a rush.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Alana, unconsciously mimicking the motherly tone I used on her.
I took a moment to fix myself up in the mirror; applied some lipstick, combed my hair and put it up in a top bun; then put on my leopard print infinity scarf and headed out the door. A stroll in the fresh air and sunshine—that was just what I needed to forget about the incident with Móraí. I walked past a historic hotel, a brewpub, and several cafés. Absorbed in my thoughts, I turned the corner and with a start, realized I was only half a block down from Sandra’s building and there was the raven. I still couldn’t place a finger on what was bothering me about Sandra and her husband but there was definitely something. I thought about turning around but I needed groceries. The raven was circling something or someone. Then I realized who, and almost tripped. What were they doing together? Had the universe brought me here for a reason, or was it a simple coincidence?
My eyes darted around, looking for somewhere to hide. There was a car parked at the curb but it wasn’t large enough to conceal me completely so I turned my back to them, facing the glass of a long and narrow shop and pretended to window shop. I could see them in the reflection, distorted but deep in conversation. I had never introduced the two of them so how did they know each other?
A twenty-something woman appeared at the glass—petite with a black wavy lob haircut and a tattooed right sleeve. She waved me in and I realized I was basically peeping while a man with a beard that hung from his chin in a braid got his left butt cheek tattooed. I blushed and turned away but it was too late, the woman had stepped outside.
“Can I help you?” she asked, raising her chin at me.
I smiled. “No, that’s all right. I apologize for staring.”
“You don’t have to be nervous. Come inside and look at some of our drawings. You after a tattoo or a piercing?”
“I was just looking for…cupcakes.” I mumbled realizing where I was.
“It’s next door,” she said and pointed.
I looked back across the street and the woman frowned at me. I must have looked like I was on the run. I thanked her and ducked inside the delicious-smelling storefront. The chimes over the door announced my presence to Hannah Walsh’s mother, Shona, who was frosting cupcakes.
“Mmm. Smells like a campfire in here. Are you roasting marshmallows?” I asked with a smile. I had hoped to bake Leslie a luxurious dessert—what, I hadn’t decided—but these cupcakes were hard to beat.
The woman turned her friendly smile toward me. Her daughter had never been one of my favorite people, but she was good to Alana and it was wise to be friendly to the woman who made the best treats in town and just might possibly be your mother-in-law one day.
“Sophia, nice to see ye, dear. I'm tryin’ out a new recipe for the Irish Cream Cupcakes. The Plastic Paddy’s love ‘em but sure japers if I don’t get sick of makin’ ‘em.”
“Well, Cullen is no tourist, and he loves them, too,” I said and moved closer to the counter.
“I added a marshmallow frosting with melted chocolate and pistachios. Have one? I iced them too early but they should be cooled now,” she offered.
“Thank you, that’s sweet, but I couldn’t.”
“Go way outta that. You only like the lemon and raspberry, huh? Take one home for yer man then, and tell him Shona said to enjoy.”
I felt a whispered tingle of premonition. Sure enough, when I looked back across the street, Móraí was still there speaking to Madam Brun. I turned back to Shona behind the counter. She was already boxing the cupcake up.
“Thank you. He’ll love it. It’s Leslie’s birthday, too, so I’ll need half a dozen of her favorite.”
“Favorite? That slip of a girl is in here at least three times a week. I don’t know how she stays so thin.”
“I know. She’s some sort of magical unicorn. I think the banana cupcake with salted caramel peanut butter frosting is her sweet of choice this week.”
I perused the chalk board on the wall to see what else was new. “Give me two of the maple-bacon buttercreams as well. They remind me of my grandmother.”
“Ah, isn’t that sweet. I was having one of those moments this morning baking up the Maimeó Mac Cookies & Cream. I named it for my own sweet mother.” She took a deep breath. “Jaysus, that woman loved cookies… speak of the devil, isn’t that John’s mum beyont? Ye can give her one of her treats now.” She pointed out the window where Móraí was now getting into a taxi. Sandra was no longer in sight.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“That’s Cullen’s grandmother, alright. I was thinking of my own grandmother.”
“Ah, to be sure. Don’t mind me, dear, I’m knackered, been up since 4am bakin’. Ye’re a Canadian, right, like Leslie? Hence the love for maple-bacon,” she said with a smile.
I nodded and took the packaged-up cupcakes, digging in the front pocket of my faded denim jeans for cash.
“Be sure to tell yer man that the marshmallow was an experiment. I haven't had a lick of ‘em yet so I expect feedback.”
“Will do.”
I crossed the street and headed inside the food hall at Fallon & Byrne, my mind filled with questions. As I passed the fine artisan foods and deli counters, my stomach growled again, reminding me that I still needed to shop for Leslie’s birthday dinner. What to make? I swiveled, taking in the fresh fish, sinful cakes, and fine cheeses, and bee-lined it for the Butchers counter. The spicy mexican chorizo sausage would be fabulous in a macaroni-and-cheese casserole. Then I headed to the cheese counter for some peppercorn jack and sharp cheddar. I thought about wandering down to the cellar where they kept an unrivalled selection of wines but my own racks were stocked, and besides I really needed to get back to the store.
Both arms were full as I left the market, and I once again found myself pondering what Móraí would be doing outside Sandra Brun’s place. Before I knew it, I was back at the corner of Wicklow and William Street and I saw that blasted Raven flying away from Mysterious Adventures in Ink. The front door was ajar and an uneasy sensation started to grow.
Somethings wrong.
Unease blossomed into fear and I almost dropped the groceries.
“Alana!” I shouted as I stepped inside.
No reply.
Books had been yanked off of shelves and scattered everywhere—entire book stands knocked over.
This had happened once before; my home had been ransacked by my brother-in-law on his quest for my sapphire. I’d been knocked unconscious in the process. My heart wept at the realization that someone could pierce my peaceful bubble once again, but that man was dead so this couldn’t be related.
Alana.
I ran, noting as I went that the only area left untouched in the store was the newest section. It had been picked over but not desecrated like the rest of the store.
Before I could reach the backroom, Alana emerged.
“Alana?” I whispered.
I felt a wave of relief so strong that I almost sank to my knees as I wrapped my arms around her.
“You okay?” I asked, though I could see that she was.
“Sure. Why?” She pulled away. “What happened?”
“Someone ransacked the place. The store’s a mess. You didn’t hear anything?”
She shook her head. “I was just finishin’ up with the old inventory.”
“How long were you out there? Why weren’t you checking on the storefront?”
I led the way to the front door, glancing up and down the street as if I could identify the guilty party.
“I was listenin’ for the bell,” Alana responded in a defensive tone, “I don’t know how I could have missed all this.”
“I don’t know how, either,” I said, a touch snarky. “But thank god you did—maybe we need to get your hearing checked.”
I had threatened that a million times over the years, although I’d never really meant it. Alana, like all other children and husbands, seemed to have selective hearing. This time I was serious.
As the clock slowly ticked toward the closing hour, we crouched and gathered together the random books that had been scattered. I felt anger, rage… and then an out-of-control fear as I remembered the spell book.
My heart pounded.
I remained still for a moment, thinking…then I placed my hand on Alana’s shoulder, “Sweetie. Could you go check my desk and just make sure nothings missing?”
“Mum, I was back there the whole time.”
“I know. Just humor me, in case you were in the washroom or something.”
As soon as Alana disappeared into the back, I hurried to the corner of the store.
I found the book hidden just where I’d left it, in my Gigi’s Grandfather clock. It was giving off a strange vibration. There was something going on and it was time for me to take a look through it once again. The book would tell me what was happening—as long as I was willing to open it.
“What’s that, Mum?”
“Nothing,” I said, quickly shoving it into my satchel.
“The desk looks fine. Still very neat.”
“All right then. Must have been some kids having some fun because nothing is missing. Let’s get this place put back together.”
“Shouldn’t we call the police or Da?” Alana asked.
I paused for a minute, thinking it over. The police hadn’t been much help the last time. A security system and camera would probably be a better idea going forward.
“No. They didn’t break anything. Let’s just clean up and get home. I have to get dinner started. Oh, and don’t say anything to your Da and Leslie at dinner. I’ll tell them later.”
THIRTY
T he house smelled of cheese, onion and garlic. The mouthwatering aromas reminded me of Gigi which I was sure would make Leslie happy. I wanted my best friend’s birthday dinner to be special so I’d also stuffed the wine cellar full of her favorite booze and sweets, and filled half a dozen mason jars with daisies, and snapdragons. I’d also prepared enough food to feed an army, which realistically was equivalent to one Leslie.
“Stop drooling in the pan,” I ordered Cullen, as I chopped up watermelon for the agua fresca.
In the absence of Leslie, Cullen was serving as my salivating sous chef. Much like Leslie, he kept sneaking bites of the spicy sausage when he thought I wasn’t looking, only his enthusiastic way of sneaking bites kept leaving drippings on the kitchen counter. Even still, it was plain old fun to have him as a companion to cook with.
After trying to block Cullen’s last attempt, He had wrapped me in a bear hug and now had me on the floor tickling me. Typical Cullen behavior. I was squealing so hard with laughter we barely heard the doorbell ring.
“The birthday girl is here,” Alana said, walking into the kitchen with Leslie trailing. “Ah, here! Do ye guys ever quit?”
“Set the table, please,” I called out.
“You two grossing your daughter out again?” Leslie said, with a wink.
“By the holy, it doesn’t take much these days,” Cullen announced proudly. “Someday she’ll miss us.”
“Yeah I will,” Alana called back, to the clatter of plates. “I’m puttin’ the two of ye in an old-age home, first chance I get.”
“No dinner for you,” I yelled.
“I’m staying on your good side, then,” Leslie said and breathed in loudly through her nose. “Like heaven. I’m famished.”
“Ditto,” said Cullen.
“Right,” I said, giving him the evil eye. “Hopefully Cullen’s left us some.”
“What can I get you, Les? There’s beer, wine or some fruity water—it’s nonalcoholic,” Cullen said, making a gag face.
“It’s watermelon agua fresca,” I corrected, “and it’s delicious but you know Leslie will have the Shiraz with me.”
“Bossy,” Leslie said.
“Oh, sorry. What do you want?”
“Shiraz.” She grinned.
“How was your date?”
“Umm…it was good.”
“Come on. Give me some details here,” I pushed, casually wiping out wineglasses the size of fish bowls. “It was that silver fox, right? The one you were talking to the day Deirdre got hurt.”
Leslie smiled. “Peter. Yes. His name is Peter.”
“What does he do?”
“He works in a museum…in London.”
“Really. That’s a little far for a relationship, isn’t it?”
Leslie shrugged. “It was just lunch. Anyway
, can we talk about something else.”
“Fine. You’ll never guess what happened to me today.”
“Um…you were kidnapped from work and hypnotized by that nutcase friend of yours?”
“No,” I said, as I poured the wine. “Well, it does have to do with her.”
“I knew it,” she said. “Tell me more.”
“First, Móraí came into the bookstore and we had a confrontation about her new interest in witchcraft and pagan customs.” I stopped and looked up, “Do you know she actually belongs to a coven?”
“So?”
“What do you mean, ‘so?”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little hypocritical? You own a magical jewel, a spell book and you’ve used magic to time travel.”
“Hey! Shhh…” I said casting my eyes about the kitchen. “Alana’s in the next room, and you haven’t even heard the whole story.”
“Sorry.” She whispered. “I just don’t get why you’ve got such a stick up your butt when it comes to magic all of a sudden.”
“It’s different. I inherited that stuff. It was a curse. I’m not a witch.” I swallowed, thinking everything that was coming out of my mouth did sound rather judgmental. “Honestly, though, it’s Móraí. She rubs me the wrong way,” I clarified. “I don’t have anything against Wiccans or covens.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Yeah,” I said and dumped the large pan of oven roasted broccoli into a serving bowl. It was heavy. I had really made a lot of everything. I wiped my brow and took a swig of my wine.
Leslie bent down to pet Daphne. “Good, because I joined a coven, too.”
“You what?” I said, dribbling wine down my chin. Luckily, we were in the kitchen and I was close to the paper towel rack.
“Thought you were okay with it,” she said and grinned.
“You should join one cause you ARE such a witch,” I snarled, realizing she was teasing me.
We sat down to our feast in the dining room, and I finished my story about Móraí.
“So how do you think they know each other?”
Even now, after dwelling on it all afternoon, I was still puzzled. Had I mentioned Móraí to Sandra at one time or vice versa? No, I was sure I hadn’t.
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 81
